


He's My Best Friend

by burnthepasttotheground



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Post-Rent, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthepasttotheground/pseuds/burnthepasttotheground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My stab at "Everyone thinks they’re dating and then they start wondering if they’re dating" for Mark and Roger.<br/>(just more Marker trash, but with kind of an ensemble cast, and what I think is a fabulous scene between Mark and Joanne)</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's My Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This was born out of me being angry with myself for always killing off Mimi, and also wanting to write to a prompt. Enjoy!

**Wednesday, March 13, 1991 12:18 AM EST**

“Hey, you,” she said cheerfully, turning away from the window and flashing Roger a smile. Mimi loved to sit on her windowsill at night and gaze out at the stars, or at least what little of the stars she could see in the sky above New York City. It reminded her of her own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe, an idea which she found oddly comforting. Plus, the sky was just so pretty at night.

“Hey,” he replied, returning her smile and closing the door softly behind him. “How are you doing?” He made his way over to the window and sat behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She leaned into his embrace and focused her gaze out the window again. “Fine. Where you been all night?”

Her tone was light, not accusatory. Mimi wasn’t going to become the jealous, paranoid girlfriend. Not after she had been on the receiving end of Roger’s mistrust last year. It was past midnight now, though, and she hadn’t seen him since the afternoon. She was curious.

“Upstairs,” he answered, resting his head on Mimi’s shoulder and kissing her cheek. “Mark wanted an opinion on a few scenes he cut together.”

Mimi wasn’t stupid. She knew Roger hadn’t spent eight hours looking at camera footage. But she also knew that he probably _had_ been hanging out with Mark the entire time. She wasn’t worried that he was cheating or using or anything like that. She knew he just missed his best friend. After all, those two were closer than she had ever been with any of her friends. Angel was the only one she had ever really clicked with, and even then, they hadn’t been on the same level as Mark and Roger.

“They any good?”

Roger chuckled a little. “It’s Mark. Of course they were good. Probably just wanted to show off.”

“He never lets _me_ see anything. Nothing unfinished, at least.”

Roger grinned at her. “I’m the chosen one,” he said proudly.

“No fair,” she pouted.

“I don’t make the rules,” Roger replied softly, before kissing the pout off her face.

“I missed you,” she told him when their lips broke apart.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized I’d been gone for so long. How was your night?”

“Fine. Just … here,” she said, not knowing how to make it sound interesting.

She had been mostly confined to her apartment for the past two months, after she was released from the hospital. Collins had nearly wiped out the Food Emporium’s ATM paying for her pneumonia treatment. Things had been awkward with Benny at the time, and no one wanted to ask for money if they could avoid it. The hospital stay had also helped her through the beginnings of withdrawal, and she had had an easier time getting off heroin this time, under Roger’s and Mark’s watchful eyes.

But she was still sick, and going back to work was out of the question, so here she was, day in and day out. Occasionally she went down to the Life with the gang, but that was pretty much it. She couldn’t complain though. She had cheated death and gotten the love of her life back in one night; she would make the best of this situation. Besides, she usually had Roger here to keep her company, when he wasn’t going off to places without telling her, and the others stopped by once in a while.

“I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be here all day tomorrow. I promise.” He hugged her closer to his chest.

“Hey, forget it. You can go out sometimes, you know.” She turned and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Well,” he sighed. “I promise tomorrow, anyway.”

“C’mon,” Mimi nodded her head sleepily toward the bedroom. She’d been sleeping a lot earlier since her brush with death. No longer was she a bona fide creature of the night. “It’s late.”

 

**Wednesday, March 13, 1991 9:04 AM EST**

“Mark, honey, are you there? It’s Mom.”

Mark was awoken by his mother’s high-pitched, sing-songy voice on the answering machine. He stayed in bed and listened. It wasn’t like it was going to bother anyone. Since Collins had gotten the teaching gig in Virginia and Roger had been sleeping downstairs, he basically had the loft to himself.

“We miss you in Scarsdale, honey. Anyway, it’s your father’s birthday this week. He would really love if you came to visit. You can bring _Roger_ with you. Give us a call, Mark! Love, Mom.”

Mark sighed, and covered his head with his pillow. This wasn’t the first time his mom had left a message like this. _Mark, call us. Mark, come home. Mark, bring Roger over._ Always with the bit about Roger. He had this theory that his parents thought he and Roger were a couple. _Whatever._ Apparently it was easier for his parents to think he was gay (and with a non-Jewish man, to boot!) than to believe he’d been single for a year and a half. He let them believe what they wanted. It was nice to know he could bring a man home without freaking them out, in case it was ever relevant in the future.

He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. He had to help Joanne out with sound equipment today, but that wasn’t until the afternoon. Just as he was drifting back to sleep, he was startled by a banging on the front door.

“Mark, come downstairs! We’re making breakfast!” It was only Roger.

“Fine,” Mark called, just loud enough to hear behind the door. Roger and Mimi had kept their kitchen fairly well-stocked since they had been able to procure some cash, and it wasn’t unusual for them to feed Mark sometimes. It was _so_ early, though.

“You’re welcome!” came Roger’s voice from the stairwell.

 

**Wednesday, March 13, 1991 10:53 AM EST**

Mimi sat at the table sipping coffee and watching Roger and Mark clean up the mess from breakfast. They’d only made eggs and toast, but Roger wasn’t exactly the tidiest chef. The two men were chattering and laughing about something Mimi didn’t quite catch. She guessed it was some sort of in-joke they’d come up with yesterday. She didn’t mind. It was nice to see Roger laugh. Sometimes she thought she wasn’t any good at making him laugh. She was _great_ at making him do other things, sure. She was the best at that, when she was feeling well, but laughing—not so much, not lately at least.

After a few moments, the boys quieted down, and she seized the opportunity to include herself in the conversation. “So, Mark, what are your plans for the day?” No reason not to live vicariously while she was at it.

Roger turned toward Mark. “You still helping Joanne?”

“Uh-huh,” Mark set down the plate he was drying and leaned against the counter, facing Mimi. “I have to help Joanne set up Maureen’s sound equipment down at the performance space.”

Mimi stifled a giggle. “What’s she protesting this week?” She could never keep up with all of Maureen’s different causes, but she admired the woman’s tenacity.

Mark smiled at Mimi and shook his head. “Fuck if I know.”

“Are you all gonna go to the performance?”

Mark shrugged and turned his head to look at Roger.

“We weren’t really planning on it,” Roger said, not turning away from the sink, where he was washing a pan.

Mimi couldn’t tell if he was sincere or not, especially with his back toward her.

“Are you just saying that ‘cause you promised to spend all day with me?”

He turned around, and she gave him her best sweet-but-obnoxious smile. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough time to fluster him because Mark interjected on Roger’s behalf.

“No. Meems, there’s really only so much Maureen a person can take. Trust me. I think we’re gonna sit this one out.”

She shrugged, trying to maintain nonchalance and carefree-ness. “Suit yourself.”

“Actually, I should probably go get dressed. Thanks for the food, you guys.”

“Oh, hey! Mark, you should come by later. It gets lonely down here.” Mimi liked Mark, and she liked having the extra company.

“Hey!” Roger exclaimed in reaction to her last statement.

She shrugged unapologetically. “Sorry.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later, you two,” Mark closed the door, laughing.

 

**Wednesday, March 13, 1991 2:01 PM EST**

She tapped the toe of her Doc Marten on the floor and checked her watch. 2:01. She sighed and tried to remind herself that not everyone was as punctual as herself.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I—I have no excuse.”

But apparently some people were close.

“No problem! You’re not even late,” Joanne replied, relieved. Why had she ever doubted Mark Cohen? The boy was reliable as hell.

“Right. You live on Maureen time,” Mark responded knowingly. “So what do you need me to do?”

“Oh, you know…” she said casually. “Just … everything?”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up. Joanne wasn’t surprised. It hadn’t been her plan to make Mark set everything up, but she was having a rough week at the office; she was in the middle of a case that she wasn’t sure she was going to win, and she had mountains of paperwork piled on her desk. In fact, this was her paperwork time. She was taking time out of her very busy schedule to set up Maureen’s sound equipment, and she was _fried_.

“I can help,” she added, trying to sound less demanding, “and I can pay if you want.” She flashed Mark a cajoling smile that Maureen would have been proud of.

Mark sighed and began to walk over to the stage. “I’ll do it for free. But only because I know what you put up with.”

“Thank you, Mark. Thank you so—”

“And,” he turned and pointed at her. “You have to keep me company.”

“Of course!” She followed him over to the stage; she’d never been planning to leave him alone. Besides, she liked Mark quite a bit, and she wouldn’t mind talking about something other than work for a while.

“Okay, then!” He began fiddling with wires that Joanne probably couldn’t name on a good day. “So what’s she protesting, anyway?”

“Uh,” she racked her brain trying to remember which nonsensical cause Maureen was championing this time around. Not that she didn’t support her girlfriend, she just recognized a drama queen when she saw one. Occasionally Maureen stumbled upon a worthy cause, like she had that Christmas Eve, but mostly she was just protesting for attention.

Mark continued to plug and unplug different wires as Joanne thought.

“Oh! The appropriation of St. Patrick’s Day by non-Irish people.”

The filmmaker made a face to indicate that he’d heard worse before. Then he looked up at Joanne. “Is she even Irish?”

Joanne grinned. “That’s what I said!” God, she loved this boy.

“And?” Mark asked, grinning back at her.

“One eighth on her mother’s side,” she smirked.

Mark snorted. “Wow. I almost hate to miss it.”

“You got big plans tonight?” she asked.

Mark shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing huge. Going down to Mimi’s, I guess.”

“Ah. How’s that going?”

“What?”

“With Mimi,” she answered with another smirk. “In the competition for Roger’s attention.”

“What comp—what are you talking about? And respond into the mic, please.”

“Oh, c’mon Mark.” She made her way to the center of the stage. “You’re telling me you’re not even a little bit jealous?” she asked into the microphone.

“Jealous of wh—of Mimi? How much feedback does Maureen want?”

“Yes, of Mimi. And she just wants the typical set-up.”

“Okay,” Mark mumbled as he messed around with yet more wires. “Why would I be jealous of Mimi?”

“Look, I know I’m the newcomer to the crew, but you and Roger have been practically dating for, like, forever, am I right?”

Mark stopped working and faced her. “What? What gave you that idea?”

 _Not a denial_ , thought Joanne. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for her excellent gay intuition. “I don’t know. Meeting you guys, for one.”

“Roger’s my best friend,” Mark said, returning to his work.

“Whatever you say,” she sing-songed doubtfully.

They were both quiet for a moment, and then she continued, wandering around the stage and gesturing as she spoke.

“It’s like—when I first saw you together, I thought maybe you were exes or something, but then I thought, ‘No. They’re _way_ too cordial to be exes. Maybe they’re together. Maybe Maureen didn’t tell me everything. And besides, maybe Maureen doesn’t know. I mean, Maureen didn’t know _she_ was gay ‘til she was in her twenties, who’s to say her gaydar is reliable, anyway?’ But then there was Mimi, so I thought, ‘Huh. Well, maybe they are straight.’ But I could never really shake the vibe, you know? And you! You don’t date anyone, and you’re a perfectly desirable man as far as I’m concerned. And I—I just can’t figure—” she finally looked over at Mark, who had apparently stopped working a while ago and was now staring at her wide-eyed.

Joanne felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Perhaps she’d gotten a little carried away with her explanation.

“Um. Thank you?” he said quietly.

“Mark, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I was just … trying to keep you company?” she tried.

“It’s alright,” he sighed and pointed toward the microphone. “My parents seem to think the same thing.”

“Really?” she asked into the mic.

“Yes.” She noticed the eye-roll accompanying his answer. “Is that good?” he asked, pointing at the mic.

“Yeah, it sounds fine. Thank you.” She paused and considered whether to ask her question. It was tactless, but since she had already made a fool of herself, she went for it anyway. “So … you’re not, then?”

Mark gave her a quizzical look. “Jealous?”

Joanne nodded.

“Don’t think so,” he said casually, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Besides, I get plenty of Roger time.”

She smiled kindly at him. “Well, I guess I don’t have to wonder anymore.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Thanks again, Mark.” She went in for a hug before he took off.

“Yeah, no problem. Hope it goes well. I’ll, uh, try not to appropriate St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Take care,” she chuckled as she waved him off.

 

**Wednesday, March 13, 1991 2:31 PM EST**

Roger fumbled around in the bathroom cupboard, looking for an extra bottle of shampoo. They had run out downstairs and he remembered him and Mark stocking up once when it was on sale. He heard the phone ring, but he let it go to the machine, as was the protocol.

“Hey, Mark, it’s Maureen. I don’t know if you heard, but I’m having a protest tonight.”

Roger suspected that Joanne hadn’t told her she was using Mark’s services.

“It’s at the usual spot. You should come. Bring your boyfriend! And Mimi, too, if she’s up for it. I’ll see you, Pookie!”

Roger rolled his eyes and continued the search for shampoo. Finally finding some, he returned to the living area and erased the message before heading downstairs. Mark didn’t need to feel guilty for skipping Maureen’s performance.

 

**Wednesday, March 13, 1991 11:48 PM EST**

“Roger?”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.”

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” Mimi nestled herself closer to his chest and closed her eyes. It was too late to get into a conversation like this.

“Tease.”

“You don’t wanna hear it, anyway.”

“Yes, I do.” She felt him kiss the top of her head. “Come on.”

_Alright, he asked for it._

“What’s the deal with you and Mark?” she asked bluntly.

Not one day ago she was sure they were just friends, but watching them together tonight and this morning had planted doubts in her mind. They were just _too_ good together.

“What do you mean ‘the deal’? We met—”

“No,” she raised her head to make eye contact with him in the dim lighting of her bedroom, “I mean … like … you and I are boyfriend and girlfriend, right?” She hated herself for that wording. Someone with her life experience should be able to sound less juvenile.

“Right,” Roger confirmed, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“And you and Mark are … what?”

“Mark’s my best friend. Mimi, what’s up?”

“Nothing. Just awful close for friends,” she mumbled.

“Oh my god,” Roger said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Are you jealous of Mark?”

“No!” she answered automatically. After she processed the question, though, she revised her answer. “Oh my god … maybe.” This was news to Mimi. _Was_ she jealous of Mark?

Roger snickered and hugged her tighter. She wondered if she was being ridiculous.

“What brought this on?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, trying to order her thoughts. “You guys just … seem so _natural_.”

“What, tonight?”

“All the time. Like you’re on a different level.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, babe. He’s my best friend.”

“Yeah. Sorry. It was stupid.” She said the words, but she wasn’t sure if she meant them. “Good night.” She kissed his cheek softly.

“Night.”

 

**Thursday, March 14, 1991 1:23 AM EST**

The more she thought about it, the more unsure she felt. She was probably being paranoid. But maybe she wasn’t. Plus the idea that someone else clearly made Roger so much happier than she did wasn’t exactly reassuring, no matter the circumstances.

She looked over at him, fast asleep to her left. She loved him. Truly loved him. Mimi had experienced true love very few times in her short life, but she knew it when she felt it.

But she wasn’t going to live the rest of her life with a nagging doubt in the back of her mind. That wasn’t her way. She was the all or nothing type these days. If she couldn’t be one hundred percent present in a relationship, then it was a waste of her time. Wasn’t it? She sighed and moved closer to Roger to kiss his forehead.

She had a difficult decision to make.

 

**Friday, March 15, 1991 4:26 PM EST**

“What?” he asked her, completely bewildered.

“You heard me, Roger. Don’t make me say it again.”

“But … why? I don’t—We’re so good together. I thought …” he trailed off, not knowing what to say. Roger was completely blindsided. He’d never been broken up with before, and he’d always imagined that when it happened he would see it coming. But this? This he had not seen coming at all.

“I’ve been thinking, and I just think we might be happier apart.”

“ _Might_? You’re dumping me because we _might_ be happier that way? Haven’t we tried that before?” He was not anxious to relive the months he spent without Mimi.

“But it’s different.”

He gave her a rather impatient look to indicate she should elaborate.

“We’re both in a better place now.”

 _Better place, my ass._ Mimi was so much weaker than she’d been last year, and apparently she was starting to lose her mind. This was a much worse place.

“I mean, I’m not an addicted disaster, and you’re not a jealous mess. Maybe … we don’t need each other to be happy anymore,” she finished and gave him a small smile.

He knew she was probably right. They had both grown up in the time since they’d gotten together. Still, that wasn’t a reason to break up. He couldn’t find a reason. None of this made sense.

“Just because two people don’t need each other doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be together,” he informed her bluntly. His girlfriend didn’t respond. “I don’t wanna be without you, Mimi,” he uttered softly.

“Hey,” she cupped his cheek with her hand. “You won’t be. I’m still right here. I’m not going anywhere,” she told him, smiling and shaking her head.

“You know what I mean,” he replied flatly.

“Just think of all the other opportunities you can explore this way.”

 _Oh my god._ Was she still on this?

“Mimi!” he cried, probably a bit too loud.

“What?”

“Seriously? You’re still on the Mark thing?”

“Well, so are you,” she countered.

“Mimi, come on,” he said, trying to embrace her—she pulled away. “You’re going to break up with me because I have a friend?”

“I am breaking up with you because this doesn’t feel right to me anymore.”

She looked at him pleadingly with those big brown eyes that he’d always had a weakness for.

“Fine.”

Now _she_ was embracing _him_. He hugged her back, and they stayed that way for a long moment. Finally, she kissed his cheek and pulled away. “I love you.”

“Oh, what the hell, Mimi?” he protested. He wasn’t going to be tugged back and forth like this. If this was actually happening, then he wanted a clean break.

“What? I do! Roger, I’ll always love you,” she said matter-of-factly.

She was so cute. And so right. Of course she was. He reached out to hug her again.

“I love you, too.”

They parted, and he got up to walk toward the door.

“Where you going?”

“Upstairs,” he answered, opening the front door. Turning around, he added, “And don’t make it into anything weird.”

“Okay,” she replied, as he closed the door.

 

**Friday, March 15, 1991 5:58 PM EST**

“Hey,” Mark greeted the man in his living room as he closed the front door. “What are you doing here all alone? Not that I’m not glad to see you,” he added hurriedly, keenly aware of Roger’s insecurities.

“Waiting for you. Mimi…” his voice trailed off.

 _Oh, no_. Mark stopped in his tracks.

“Roger, what happened? Is she okay?” he asked, alarmed.

“Oh, no! She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Sorry.” Roger assured him.

“Oh,” Mark responded, relieved. “What’s up?” He made his way over to the chair near the couch Roger was sitting on and set his camera down on the coffee table.

“She, uh, she broke up with me.” Well that didn’t sound very fine.

“What? What happened?” This was the last thing he’d expected to hear. Hadn’t he just been hanging out with them two days ago? They’d seemed so happy.

Roger shrugged. “She said it didn’t feel right to her anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he said kindly. “I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah, well. Me neither.”

“You wanna get drunk?”

“No,” Roger sighed. “Not yet anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nah,” he replied, stretching out on the couch.

“Okay,” Mark didn’t really know what other options there were.

“Just stay with me for a while, okay?” Roger asked, closing his eyes.

“Yeah. Sure,” Mark answered automatically.

He had learned from past experience that if Roger wanted company, you provided him with it, since it was usually code for “Please keep an eye on me, so I don’t do anything self-destructive.” This didn’t seem like such a dire situation though. He went to turn on a lamp and sat back down, getting comfortable in the chair.

 

**Friday, March 15, 1991 7:02 PM EST**

They had been sitting in comfortable silence for a long time when the phone rang. Mark made no move to answer it, and Roger wasn’t surprised.

“Mark, honey, pick up the phone. Mark?”

Roger heard Mark sigh in exasperation.

“Well, honey, I hope you’re getting these messages. It’s your father’s birthday _tomorrow_. At least call him, Mark. Please. Take care of yourself, honey. And give my best to Roger. You two feel free to visit anytime you like. _Call your father._ ”

Roger blinked in disbelief. He was surprised Mrs. Cohen knew his name, let alone wished him well.

“Hey, Cohen, why’s your mom so obsessed with me?”

“She thinks we’re dating,” Mark answered casually, eyes closed.

Roger sat up. “What?” He needed more of an explanation than that.

Mark opened his eyes to look at Roger and replied, “Yeah. That’s my theory anyway.”

“And she thinks that, why?”

Mark shrugged. “Don’t know. Guess I’ve been single too long.”

This was too perfect. Roger tilted his head back and laughed harder than he had in a long time. When he was finally able to contain himself, he looked over to see Mark smiling at him.

“It’s not _that_ funny,” he declared, stifling a giggle.

Maybe he should just tell him. Roger hadn’t planned to tell Mark about Mimi’s … _idea,_ so as not to make him uncomfortable, but this was just too good.

“No, you don’t understand. That’s what Mimi said to me.”

“What?”

“Said we were ‘awful close for friends.’”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Roger replied through laughter.

“That’s what Joanne said to me!”

“No!”

“Yes! She said we’d been ‘practically dating like forever.’” Mark did a very poor imitation of Joanne.

Roger wiped the tears from his eyes and managed to stop laughing. “Wow.” Mark was still grinning at him.

“Yeah.” Mark moved from the chair to the cushion of the couch Roger wasn’t using anymore. “You should have heard her go on and on. Apparently we confuse her.”

Roger grinned back at Mark. In that instant, he understood the confusion Joanne felt.

“Mark,” he said after a few moments had passed, “are we dating?”

Now it was Mark’s turn to laugh.

“Hey,” Roger exclaimed, trying to control his own laughter. “I’m serious!”

“Roger, if we were dating, you would know.” He paused for a second and added, “ _I_ would know!”

“Are you sure, though?” Roger persisted. “Mark, that’s a lot of people. Plus Maureen.”

“Maureen?”

“Oh, she called the other day, referred to me as your boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Mark replied, unimpressed. “That’s typical.”

“Is that supposed to be typical, though?”

He waited for Mark to reply.

After what felt like forever, the filmmaker whispered, “Roger … are we dating?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air.

“No,” Mark raised a hand as if to quiet Roger, “No, no, no. This is stupid. We would know.”

“You would _think_ ,” Roger replied, having entirely too much fun with this idea.

“But we haven’t ever—”

“We could.”

“ _Roger._ ”

“Fine,” he resigned, putting his hands up in front of him.

 

**Friday, March 15, 1991 8:39 PM EST**

Mark hadn’t spoken in over an hour, and the silence that had been comfortable between them before had turned somewhat tense, at least from Roger’s perspective. The songwriter was lying down on the couch again, with his legs resting on Mark’s lap. He wondered if he’d gone too far with the whole dating each other thing. It seemed like he had made the filmmaker feel awkward.

Finally, Mark broke his silence.

“I mean … I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Roger responded automatically. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever said it out loud before, but it wasn’t earth-shattering to hear, or to say. The two of them had an unspoken understanding of the matter. “But I don’t know if it’s—”

“In that way,” Mark finished for him.

“Right.”

 

**Friday, March 15, 1991 8:57 PM EST**

“We could try it out.” He couldn’t figure out quite why—maybe he was just bad at being single—but something in Roger made him want to pursue this.

Mark looked over at him. Stared at him more like. He looked like he was trying to read Roger’s face, or maybe make a decision. “Yeah?”

Roger sat up and moved closer to Mark’s end of the couch. “If you want.”

“Is that stupid?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. No one else seems to think so.”

Mark gave a short laugh, and then, unexpectedly, kissed him, and Roger kissed him back. After he pulled away, they exchanged a look, and in Mark’s wide blue eyes, Roger found the assurance he was looking for. It felt _right_.

 

**Saturday, March 16, 1991 10:12 AM EST**

Mark woke up, blinking sleepily. He reached his hand out to grab his glasses off the nightstand, only to find that his nightstand wasn’t there.

 _Oh, yeah_. The events of the night before suddenly came back to him, and then his glasses appeared right before his eyes.

“Looking for these?” Roger asked, handing them to him.

“Thanks.” He put the glasses on his face, and the other man came into focus. “Hi,” he grinned at Roger, who was lying intertwined with him on the couch.

“Hey,” Roger replied.

“Hey.” Mark didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t exactly sure where they stood this morning. After all, Roger had literally just gotten out of a long-term relationship yesterday. Still, Mark made no effort to physically separate himself from his friend.

“So,” Roger said as he took Mark’s hand in his and interlaced their fingers.

“So.”

“This is nice.”

“It is.” Mark braced himself for the “but” he was sure was coming.

Instead, Roger jerked his head forward so they were looking each other in the eyes, and asked, “You wanna do it?”

“Do—what exactly?” Mark asked, confused and taken aback by the question.

“Do us. Together.”

The filmmaker couldn’t believe his ears. Sure, he wanted to, but he did wonder if it was the best timing. He didn’t want to be Roger’s rebound relationship, but more than that, he didn’t want to hurt Mimi by swooping in on her ex the same day they broke up. To be fair though, Mark wasn’t the one proposing they “do it.” It wasn’t like he had done all the swooping.

“I do, but…” he left the sentence unfinished.

“But what?”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“No such thing,” Roger replied quickly.

Mark raised his eyebrows.

“Mark, Mimi broke up with _me_. I’m the wronged party here!”

“You sound very over her,” Mark responded sarcastically.

“Do you ever really get over anyone?” he asked, grinning innocently.

“Roger,” Mark sighed. He didn’t think they should do this.

“No, hey, hear me out, okay? We talked about it. Yesterday. How we still love each other. But it’s not—it’s not the same. And _she’s_ the one who had the idea of you and me together. Well, her and everyone else.” He stopped talking and Mark gave him his best unconvinced face. “And … and I love you?” he added, hopefully.

Mark found the eager look on Roger’s face completely adorable, and he felt himself giving in. “Fine,” he told him, smiling.

“Yeah?!” Roger asked excitedly.

“Yeah,” Mark nodded his head. “But everyone’s gonna say ‘I told you so,’ you know.”


End file.
